


Drunk Walk Home

by BlasphemousProphet



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Jealous Ian, M/M, fiona finds mickey attractive, mickey is very attractive, vee finds mickey attractive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlasphemousProphet/pseuds/BlasphemousProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone on Tumblr asked for a fic where Fiona or Vee finds Mick attractive. I can't find the original post but I used it as a jumping off point. Takes place after Season 5 in an alternate au where jail doesn't exist for Mickey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Walk Home

“Ya got clean,” drawled Vee, hanging over Mickey, who stood uncomfortably, hands stuffed in his pockets.   
“Come on, Vee, let him go,” said Fiona.  
Vee laughed drunkenly, curling a hand over Mickey’s cheek. “He looks good,” she protested. Ian narrowed his eyes as Fiona glanced at Mickey.   
Mickey did look good, Fiona thought. Without that extra layer of Milkovich dirt on him his pale skin almost glowed in the dark. His eyes looked extra blue and god, I shouldn’t have downed that extra shot, Fiona realized. “He looks good,” Fiona conceded. “Now can you get off him? I think Ian’s planning your funeral as we speak.”  
Vee glanced at Ian who was walking faster to catch up to the rest of them. “Relax,” said Vee. “He’s strictly a dick guy, isn’t he? Aren’t you?” Vee whispered, leaning in to Mickey’s neck.   
“Alright,” said Fiona. “Let’s get you home.”   
“Come on,” protested Vee. “We were bonding!”  
“I’ll show you bonding,” mumbled Ian, who hadn’t drunk the whole night and would have been sulking about it if not for the view of his normally reticent boyfriend loosening up long enough to take shots with Fiona and glare down the whole bar until he got Ian in his line of vision again.   
Then it was Ian and Mickey on the street alone, Mickey tentatively pulling a hand out of his pockets to reach for Ian. “Vee thinks you’re hot,” said Ian. Mickey grinned cheesily.   
“What about you?” he said.   
Ian let Mickey lean on him. “What do you think?” he said.   
“Would you like me even if I was still dirty?” Mickey asked. It was the kind of question he would never ask sober because he would be worried about getting an honest answer. It was the kind of question Ian loved to answer.   
“What do you think?” repeated Ian. “I loved you then, didn’t I?”  
“Y-yeah?” said Mickey abruptly.   
“And now,” whispered Ian.   
There were words in the air, falling around them, between them, separating them. Words Mickey did his best not to think about.   
Where’s the South Side piece of trash I fell for?  
“You liked me better then,” said Mickey, feeling his way out in the dark towards a conversation he would be too afraid to have sober.   
“No,” said Ian plainly, grabbing Mickey’s arm and flipping him around until they were facing each other.   
“No?”  
Sometimes it was hard to look Mickey directly in the eyes. Ian did it when he needed to feel safe and grounded and overwhelmed with Mickey instead of the outside world. He did it them.   
“You’ve only gotten sweeter and smarter and sexier,” said Ian. “Every time I think it’s not possible for me to like you better it turns out I do.”  
Ian curled his hand around Mickey’s jaw the way Vee had before. “I’ve said a lot of stupid shit,” said Ian. “If I could take it back I would. But I love it when you get blushy on me. When you listen to me talk. When you let me take care of you. when I can touch you like you’re mine.”  
Mickey was bright red.   
“I love you,” said Ian. “Only you.”  
I’m not good at these things, Ian silently added. I’m not the smartest or the richest or the best at anything. I’m not even the best at loving you. Mandy and Svetlana and fucking Yev probably have me beat. But I’ll try, Mick. Just let me stick around and I’ll try to be the best at loving you.   
Mickey was holding Ian’s hand gently in both of his own.   
“I love you too,” said Mickey gruffly, looking thrilled.  
Ian leaned into Mickey, breathed into his mouth. “I want everything to be the same. Six, sixty years from now, I want to be just like this,” he said. “You make me feel safer.”  
“Me too,” whispered Mickey. On a street in South Side, in the middle of the night for any crackhead to see and run his mouth, standing next to a fucking Gallagher while rats ran around them and meth addicts searched for their latest fix, Mickey had never felt so safe.


End file.
